


A Cat's Rage

by CabbageCommander



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-07 18:38:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19475002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CabbageCommander/pseuds/CabbageCommander
Summary: “A cat’s rage is beautiful, burning with pure cat flame, all its hair standing up and crackling with blue sparks, eyes blazing and sputtering.” (William Burroughs)





	A Cat's Rage

**Author's Note:**

> It’s been a while. Needed to start doing something in my free time while on my 9 month involuntary vacation courtesy of Uncle Sam to stay sane. So here we are. Expect one shots, song fics, short fics in general until I can work myself into the mental place for longer plot. (Highly unlikely).  
> On with the show!

_“A cat’s rage is beautiful, burning with pure cat flame, all its hair standing up and crackling with blue sparks, eyes blazing and sputtering.” (William S Burroughs)_

Since defecting Adora has seen many beautiful things. The breathtaking sight of the countless waterfalls that litter the cliffs near Brightmoon. The ethereal beauty of the First Ones remnants, speaking to some deep-rooted, forgotten part of her. The literally magical performances of the sorcerers of Mystacor, sights that had once terrified her for good reason, but now held their own captivating elegance.

None of it could ever compare to a sight she had seen since she was a child.

Catra’s anger had always had a way of stealing the breath out of her chest. The feline is all sparks, hissing like splitting, sputtering fire and fresh coals. Electric, like the static that runs through her fur as it stands on end, giving her anger physical form; making Catra herself bigger, her presence and fury so great it must take up its own space across the woman’s skin. Her eyes. Her eyes alone could stop the deserter in her tracks. They were stunning in their own right, but given a new life and power with anger to backlight them. The gold becomes the burning brilliance of a miniature sun, while the blue flashes like lightning.

She can hardly be blamed for being distracted on the battlefield when the embodiment of beauty and rage tears a path straight to her. She thinks of the old stories Shadow Weaver had told her of hellcats. Screaming, wraithlike demons made of smoke and fire and fury that indiscriminately destroyed everything in their wake. By her next breath her lungs are filled with the smoke and static crackle, and she barely has time to raise her shield to brace for shredding claws.

“Hey, Adora.”

The same greeting as always, filled with rawness and rage and despite the heat goose flesh breaks out across the legendary hero’s skin.

They move together, dancing in the flames of hurt and betrayal. The other soldiers of both sides are smarter than Adora, choosing to run away from the fire and storm, while Adora allows herself to be pulled in, until her lungs burn with her old friend’s anger. They are alone in the chaos Catra has created.

She’s not sure who tackles who, but in the next instant they are both on the ground, fighting for superiority. She can feel the static against her skin, and then. Then the vitriol and fire are filling her mouth and a serrated tongue and fangs clash against her own. Hands and claws still tear at each other seeking control. Sparks crackle against her when she’s laid bare against static filled fur. Then Adora’s fingers find a new inferno, surrounded in wet and heat. Catra thrashing and crying out, still raging and sparking and hissing. The electricity begins racing over nerves and Adora’s fingers stroke the flames, higher and higher. Claws tear into her shoulders leaving burning trails in their wake. Then there is a hitch and a crash and Catra is suddenly ridged. All her sparks and energy turned inward, paralyzing and locking muscles refusing to let Adora go. The hero’s lungs are filled with smoke making it impossible to breath, the lightning stills her heart.

The feline shudders once, twice, then goes slack with a breathless, stuttering moan that breaks the air like thunder, lightning passing and rain floods, dampening the fire and inferno.

Adora gulps in panting, greedy breaths as if the smoke had cleared and she could taste fresh air. Her hammering heart restarts at a gallop like it had been jumped back to into beating. Her hand soothes the embers down, until the final coals die and they are both left in the aftermath of the firestorm. Against her Catra slumps, muscles slack. Fur and mane frizzed and clumped with sweat. Blue and gold eyes glazed and dewy, tears pricking at their corners.

And this Adora thinks.

This is the most beautiful thing she has ever seen.

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: Hellcat was the name of an American tank circa WWII and is the unofficial mascot of the U.S. Tank Corp, thus the Black Cat (or Black Toms) on the original Tank Corp propaganda posters. This has nothing to do with the fic.


End file.
